


Oxygen

by sleepymarvel



Series: MST3k One-Shots [7]
Category: Mystery Science Theater 3000
Genre: Gen, Letter Reading, Mike centric, because I haven't written a lot of him yet and he deserves more love, mike is a jock-type, snarky bots, sort of angsty ending becuase I can't help myself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:22:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22897948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepymarvel/pseuds/sleepymarvel
Summary: "Mike! Did you know that Joel can hold his breath for an entire minute? He was so cool!" Crow had said that first week and Mike laughed, "How long can you go?"
Series: MST3k One-Shots [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1444786
Comments: 6
Kudos: 20





	Oxygen

“So why exactly do we have to listen to them?” Mike asks one morning, camped out with the bots on the bridge, trying to procrastinate work on the invention exchange. They’d given up when Mike glued googly eyes to a Frisbee and they all agreed it was the most horrifying thing they’d ever seen in their entire lives. No more inventions for Mike, for a while at least.

Currently, they're in plastic lawn chairs, pretending they're on some nice warm beach, wearing goofy sunglasses and holding fake glasses of iced tea. Mike thinks it's very homey, even though it took a while to convince the bots to go along with it (and even though Mike never lived near any beaches back home). 

“I mean, we’re all the way up in space.” Mike continues, “What’s Dr. Forrester going to do if we just stop doing what he says?”

Mike is still considerably new to this whole ‘trapped up in space and forced to watch cheesy movies’ gig. He’s figured a few things out, like what to do during movie sign or how to make sure Tom and Crow don’t start looting at the first sign of chaos. It dawns on him that if he’s trapped up here anyway, he might as well start doing what he wants. Currently he’s eating cereal out of a plastic measuring cup and nobody, not even Doctor Forrester, can make him use a bowl. 

“Are you serious?” Crow asks with narrowed eyes. “Or is this one of your new guy questions?”

“Dead serious.” Mike says, but he’s pretty sure that this _does_ classify as a new guy question. 

“You see Mike,” Servo says, hovering all classy-like above his respective lawn chair, “This is why we’re the hardened yet likable veterans and you’re the confused, conventionally attractive, jock-type.”

"Servo I have no idea what any of that means." Mike may have played on his high-school’s football team, but that doesn’t make him a jock-type, at least in his opinion.

Servo turns to face him, “Thank you for proving my point.”

“You realize they control your oxygen.” Crow's eyes are still narrowed, still unsure if his human friend is serious or not, “A couple of minutes with no oxygen and you’re as dead as Joe Don Baker’s career post Mitchell. Yikes!”

Mike shrugs, smiles like it’s just another joke. A joke like how he was shot up into space and now he doesn’t need to pay his student loans off. That was something that sometimes made him smile. It was grim but in a funny way. 

Doctor Forrester may be a mad scientist who hired him as an intern and consequentially shot him up into space, but would he actually resort to murder? Mike thinks no. Torture maybe. That’s very possible. Anyway, Mike thinks, without him there’s no experiment. They need him.

"You can't actually think they'd kill me.” Mike finally says, “I'm valuable. I'm like Barry Bonds."

"Again, proving my point." Servo declares, “I’m sorry Mike, I don’t like always being right. It’s my curse.”

"Just because I know Barry Bonds doesn't make me a jock-type." Mike defends as he finishes off his measuring cup of Cheerios.

"You're right. It makes you an _ancient_ jock-type."

Crow laughs, "Good one, Servo."

Tom straightens up as much as he can, "Thanks. I try saving my good riffs for the theater but sometimes I just can't help my genius."

Crow's amusement immediately fades, "I regret feeding your ego."

"Well, no take backs."

"Guys." Mike presses, "Imagine it. The satellite of love on strike. Let's get some good old-fashioned picket signs and some Crayola markers and let's stop watching the movies. No more movies! No more--"

Servo sighs, "Mike, if I had functioning arms, I'd slap you."

"I'll slap him." Crow volunteers and Mike thinks that the bot is little bit too excited at the prospect of it. 

"Don't you dare."

"But Mike," Crow says, and he sounds serious (even slightly bordering on afraid), "If you’re dead, how are you going to get us down to earth to do human things like a bowling team or wine tasting. You promised us at least one wine tasting!”

Mike stares at his fake glass of iced tea, his empty measuring cup of cheerios, and frowns. There’s an uneasy warm feeling building in his gut. He recognizes it as the same feeling he felt when his parents dropped him off at his Grandmother’s house when he was little. They were going on a trip and couldn’t take him along. He feels those same nerves sharp in his stomach.

"You seriously think Dr. Forrester would kill me?” Mike says, but now he’s uneasy, “You think he'd kill Barry Bonds?"

Mike’s first week on the satellite Crow had ominously told him that Joel could hold his breath for a whole entire minute. Mike didn't think much of it at the time, even though he wasn't quite sure what his new robot friend was trying to say, but something was bugging him about it now. The uneasy feeling in his gut was getting worse. 

"Yes.” Crow says immediately, “Barry Bonds took steroids anyway."

Mike’s defenses immediately shoot up. Barry Bonds was the best!

"You can't prove –" Mike begins, and then frowns a little, so maybe he is a jock-type.

"How about this new guy,” Servo interrupts, sardonically, “Instead of committing suicide by mad scientist why don't you pick out the prettiest letter in the mail bag to read after today’s movie. Wouldn't that just charm you?"

The bag of fan mail is sitting beside Mike’s lawn chair, untouched. He remembers that Gypsy had come by with that week’s mail, dropped it in front of him, and told him to sort through it. Something about how just because she's the only girl on the satellite doesn't mean she has to do all the work. Tom and Crow had laughed, but Mike promised he’d actually look through them, even though he never completely understood the concept of the letters.

He supposed it was nice that people down on earth liked him, even though most of the letters were still for Joel. Crow and Tom got their fair share of letters too. Mike not so much. He thinks grimly that maybe if he goes another year up in space he’ll get more fans. Maybe that will make him feel better about his situation but probably not. 

“Servo, what’s with the attitude?” Mike asks as he pulls the letters up beside him. “You weren’t like this with the other guy. Gypsy said so.”

“No, but we respected Joel.” Crow pipes up. Servo agrees.

“Thanks guys.” Mike says, sorting through the letters, “I really feel the love.”

"Pick one with a monster drawing.” Crow leans in closer to Mike to get a better look at the fan mail, “Kids love drawing monsters. Some kid drew me with long fangs and red eyes for Halloween last year and I made Joel frame it and put it over my bed. He said it made me look evil but that's why I liked it. It really captured my inner psyche."

"Sorry Crow, I can’t find any monster drawings."

"Darn."

After a minute Mike finds a letter at the bottom of the bag. It’s written on diary paper with uneven edges (most likely ripped out of a little kid’s journal). It’s cute enough, and the messy writing and little doodles reminds Mike of his niece, "What about this one? There's a drawing of us down on Earth eating birthday cake at a little girl’s birthday party. That would be cute for the experiment, right?"  
  
"What flavor cake?" Servo asks, leaning in on Mike’s other side, trying to get a better look at the drawing.   
  
"Chocolate." Mike concludes after skim reading the letter.  
  
"Okay then it's valid."  
  
"Great, sounds good."  
  
Mike reads over the letter again, written messily in pink ink pen, and wonders what would happen if he ever did seriously just stop watching the movies. He could if he wanted to. He knows he could.

Mike Nelson is in control of what he does. Not the Mads. Not Doctor Forrester.

Finally, Mike folds up the letter and puts it in the pocket of his jumpsuit. He leans back in his lawn chair and closes his eyes. He thinks maybe a quick nap and he’ll be ready for B-List movie torture. The bots don’t seem fazed anyways, they’re used to spontaneous Mike Nelson naps.

He listens idly as they talk about the letter, about the flavor of birthday cake they like best, and Mike can’t stop thinking about the Satellite of Love on strike. Holding up picket signs and not flinching at movie sign, even when the flashing lights get erratic and Doctor Forrester starts to get agitated. 

No more movies! No more movies! Nobody owns Mike Nelson!

_But then –_

It hits him hard as he sits reclined, trying to nap in a lawn chair on a satellite up in space. He pictures Doctor Forrester looming behind the view screen, all lanky in his green lab coat, laughing manically over the satellite’s control panel. 

"Push the button Frank." The Mad might say and Mike's oxygen would cut out. He might die, it's entirely possible. Mike Nelson thinks that maybe he isn't as valuable to the Mads as he thought. He's certainly not the Barry Bonds of space and Doctor Forrester might actually kill him. It makes sense, Mike thinks, the Mad even kills Frank at least twice a day.

"Mike! Did you know that Joel can hold his breath for an _entire_ minute? He was so cool!" Crow had said that first week and Mike laughed, "How long can you go?"

**Author's Note:**

> Recently, I've been obsessively watching host segment compilations on Youtube and I just love them. I've only written one other Mike story so far and I thought I'd write for him again because he deserves love too. Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed! ♡


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